


The Martians

by karaluvsketchup



Category: The Martian (2015), The Martian - All Media Types, The Martian - Andy Weir
Genre: AU: Everyone's stuck on Mars, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Pre-BeckWatney if you want it to be...
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-02
Updated: 2015-11-02
Packaged: 2018-04-29 13:24:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5129195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/karaluvsketchup/pseuds/karaluvsketchup
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Okay.” And with that, Beck starts letting himself believe. “I want a rover here before we move him.”</p><p>“Does that mean he’s alive?” It’s Johanssen who asks, her voice shaking.</p><p>He wants to say yes, but he can’t be the guy who declared Watney to be dead, then told everyone he was alive, only to find he was actually dead. He’s just not sure enough just yet. “It means he might be.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Martians

“Sustained winds are down to 75 kph,” Johanssen breaks what feels like several hours of silence with the news from the latest packet of weather station data received by her wrist computer. Beck checks his own and according to the clock they’ve been sheltering in the overturned MAV for almost five hours. They of course haven’t been totally silent during that time, but no one’s exactly in the mood for conversation.

“Beck, is there any chance Mark’s still alive?” Lewis asks, and Beck really doesn’t want to answer at all but she is his commander, he’s the flight surgeon and the EVA specialist, and it’s a direct question.

“It’s… it’s extremely unlikely.” Beck tells her. He feels like he’s overselling the possibility that Watney’s alive, the rational, logical part of him is telling him that his friend is gone, but he can’t quite bring himself to believe it enough to say it.

“Not impossible?” Martinez cuts in, a note of hope in his voice.

“If the decompression was partial and he was able to patch it. If he lost comms and vital signs monitoring without losing life support systems.” There’s several other big if’s that Beck could list, getting more and more unlikely, but it’s speculation, and it’s unnecessary. They get the idea. In all likelihood, Watney was either killed on impact with the communications dish, or succumbed in the minute or two afterward.

“The visibility should be improved enough to effectively search for him now,” Lewis tells them. “I’m going to go back out.”

“I’m coming with you, Commander,” Martinez tells her.

“I should come too, I was the one who saw him get hit,” Johanssen added.

“I will also go out and help with the search,” Vogel volunteered.

“Guess that’s all of us,” Beck says. “This is more likely a recovery search than a rescue, but if you find him radio me before you do anything.”

“Roger that,” Lewis says. “Prepare for airlock depressurization.”

***

They walk in a line, heading out to their best guess as to where Watney was standing when he got hit by the communications dish. Then, using essentially the same strategy they had started and had to abandon before, they spread out and walk west, looking for any sign of their crew mate. The good news is that visibility is much better now, so Lewis tells them to go about twenty meters apart in order to cover a wide area. They walk on flat ground at first, then down a hill, and after only about ten minutes of searching, Vogel, who is on the end of the line, spots the communication dish.

“Alright, everyone, regroup.” Lewis tells them all after Vogel announces what he’s found. “Gather at the comm dish, then I’ll take center, two of you on each side, ten meters apart.” Once they’ve assumed the new formation, they go barely ten steps before Lewis says, “I have eyes on Watney.”

Beck’s the first person to Lewis’s left, and both of them are kneeling by Watney’s side in seconds, as the others gather around. Watney’s face-down, half covered in sand, and he’s not moving. His suit, however, does seem to be intact, which Beck takes as a reason to be hopeful. Now, if they weren’t in EVA suits, Beck’s first move would be to check for a pulse, but he can’t, so he starts by getting down to the ground and dusting off the faceplate of his friend’s helmet while also telling Lewis to check Watney’s wrist computer.

“It says his biosensor’s offline.” She tells him.

“Check the gases. Oxygen and Nitrogen, CO2 concentrations as well as the levels in his tanks.” Beck says, looking at Watney’s face. The first thing he notices is the absence of any ice, which means his suit is still regulating temperature. Watney’s eyes are closed, his face relaxed, and Beck can’t tell if he’s breathing or not. Beck puts a gentle hand on Watney’s shoulder and thinks he feels a slight rising and falling that would indicate that he is, in fact, breathing, but with the bulky EVA suit on he’s not sure.

“Nitrogen tank is at 17% capacity, Oxygen 35%,” Lewis reports. “Interior atmosphere is reading at 77% Nitrogen, 21% Oxygen, 1.8% Carbon Dioxide.”

“Okay.” And with that, Beck starts letting himself believe. “I want a rover here before we move him.”

“Does that mean he’s alive?” It’s Johanssen who asks, her voice shaking.

He wants to say yes, but he can’t be the guy who declared Watney to be dead, then told everyone he was alive, only to find he was actually dead. He’s just not sure enough just yet. “It means he might be.”

***

Lewis and Beck stay with Watney while the other three trek back over to the Hab - Vogel and Martinez to retrieve a rover and Johanssen to go inside and get the medical supplies ready.

The guys get back with a rover and park it as close as possible before jumping out.

“We’re going to roll him onto his back and take him directly to the back seat of the rover,” Beck tells the other three. “This could cause his suit to lose pressure or aggravate his injuries, so we’ll need to move fast.” They position themselves, Beck and Martinez at Watney’s shoulders, Lewis and Vogel at his hips. “On the count of three, roll toward me.” Beck counts off and they get Watney flipped onto his back in one smooth motion. As they move, Beck is sure he sees his friend wince. “I have movement, he’s definitely alive.”

There’s no time to celebrate, however, as they all notice the piece of antenna sticking out of the front of Watney’s suit. Beck notes that it’s in a location where it could easily have taken out the biosensor, which solves that mystery, but the bigger concern is just how much damage it did to Watney. There’s dried blood caked around the hole, so it at least broke the skin. They carry him into the rover, Lewis gets in the front to drive, Beck climbs in the back with Watney, and Vogel and Martinez stay outside, hitching a ride on the back of the rover. Once the door is closed the rover pressurizes quickly and Beck tells Lewis to drive, then takes Watney’s helmet and his own helmet and gloves off.

He checks Watney’s pulse, which is beautifully present, and strong and steady, and calls out, “Watney? Mark, can you hear me?” There’s no reaction, so Beck pulls a penlight out of the rover’s first aid kit and pries open Watney’s eyes one at a time to check his pupillary reflexes. Reassuringly, both eyes seem normal, and even better, Watney starts wincing away from the light. Beck throws the light back into the first aid kit and gives Watney’s cheek a light slap. “Come on, Mark, wake up. Open those eyes for me.”

And he does. Watney’s eyes open a sliver and he mutters something that sounds like, “Beck?”

“Yeah, it’s me. You’re going to be okay, man, just try and stay awake.” Watney squeezes his eyes shut then opens them again.

“You’re still here.” He’s more focused than he was a moment ago.

“Mhmm, we’re going to get you fixed up then we’ll figure out what’s next. Can you tell me what hurts?”

“My side, mostly,” Watney tells him. “Also, fucking everything.”

Beck nods. “We’ll get you into the Hab and I can take your EVA suit off and see what exactly is going on. Until then I just need you to stay still, I’ll get you something to help with the pain.” He takes off one of Watney’s gloves and gets a pre-filled syringe of morphine from the first aid kit, which he slowly injects into a vein on the back of his friend’s wrist.  “What do you remember?” Beck asks.

“Uh, not much. I was walking and something hit me. I think my suit lost pressure, then I passed out. Is Johanssen okay? She was right next to me.”

“She’s fine, just a little shaken up.” Beck assures him.

As Lewis pulls the rover up in front of the airlock, Beck gets Watney’s EVA suit ready to go outside, then puts his own helmet and gloves back on. “Okay, Lewis, we’re good to go. Martinez, Vogel, bring the stretcher.”

Martinez and Vogel jump down off the back of the rover and get the stretcher that Johanssen had placed in Airlock 1, bringing it around just as the Rover door opens. Watney manages a smile at the two of them as they help slide him out. Then it’s a short trip to the airlock and soon all six of them are back inside the hab.

***

During training, they ran drills for situations like this, several times, so everyone quickly falls into doing what they need to do. Beck immediately starts getting out of his EVA suit as the other four move Watney from the stretcher onto one of the lab benches, which Johanssen has already cleared off and put a blanket on for a little bit of comfort. By the time Beck’s stripped down to his base layer of clothes, the others have taken off all but the main body of Watney’s EVA suit.

The suit is damaged enough that it won't be safe to use again anyway, so Beck decides that cutting him out of it is the best option - he'll just have to use his surface EVA suit from here on out. They do have a couple of pairs of sharp, heavy scissors suitable for this kind of thing, so Beck and Martinez each take an arm and start hacking through the reinforced fabric.

“How are you doing there, Mark?” Beck asks as he cuts.

“Okay, I think. The morphine helped. Did I get impaled by something?” Beck’s glad to see that he’s fully alert and oriented now, clearly and understandably scared but not panicking.

“A piece of antenna messed up your suit pretty bad, we’re still trying to figure out what kind of damage it did to you.”

“Fuck.”

Beck finishes cutting his sleeve and gives Watney’s hand a quick squeeze. “Hey, you’re alive and talking, I’m going to take that as a good sign.”

Bare arms is a good step, since it means he can get IV access and a proper set of vitals. Beck inserts a large-bore IV in Watney’s left forearm and at the same time has Martinez start carefully cutting down the front of the suit, several inches to the side of the antenna, and has Johanssen put a BP cuff around his right bicep. The blood pressure cuff is an automatic one, which inflates and takes a measurement by itself as Johanssen glances at the pulse oximeter that Beck had put on Watney’s finger before he started cutting the suit, then starts taking his temperature with an in-ear thermometer. “His blood pressure’s 102 over 70, pulse 105, oxygen 98%, and his temperature’s…” Johanssen waits a second for the thermometer to beep. “97.7.”

“Just a little bit shocky…” Beck says as he finishes securing the IV. “Martinez, you switch places with me and set him up with a liter of saline.” Martinez has cut past the antenna and started cutting away from himself, leaving a flap that can be lifted up for access to the injury. “Commander, do you need Johanssen on the computers?”

“Yeah, I’ll swap in and help you. Johanssen, initial systems check was fine except for communications, run the secondary checks and see if you can do anything.”

“Got it.” Johanssen walks over to the computer station and Lewis takes her place across the table from Beck and puts on the pair of nitrile gloves he hands her. Vogel’s still finishing up checking the Hab for damage.

Now they’re at the dangerous part of the process. Until he pulls the antenna that’s impaled Watney, Beck doesn’t know how far it’s gone in, or what it’s hit. In a hospital on earth he'd be getting an x-ray and probably a CT before moving anything. On Hermes he'd at least be able to get the x-ray but down here he's flying blind. Even if the injury is only into the lower layers of the skin, there could be serious bleeding when he removes the antenna. If it went all the way into his abdominal cavity he's in real trouble.

Anyway, Mark's beating all the odds already by being alive at all, so Beck hopes that luck will go a little further.

“Okay, Martinez, you’re monitoring his vitals and administering drugs if I ask for them. Lewis, you’re assisting me. Vogel and Johanssen, I’ll let you know if I need you.” If things get bad then he might need a blood donor and an extra pair of hands. “Watney, you ready to not have an antenna in your side?"

Watney nods and Martinez squeezes his shoulder. Then there’s nothing left for Beck to do but pull the damn thing out of his friend. He takes a deep breath, concentrating on steadying his hands, then grips the antenna and pulls it out at the same angle it went in. Watney grunts in pain, but the antenna slides out without too much resistance, only snagging when the last centimeter needs to go back through the EVA suit fabric. He gets the whole thing out in one piece, however, and now that the clothing isn’t pinned down by the antenna he can finally get a good look at the wound.

It’s not pretty, but it’s only oozing blood, not gushing, and looking at the antenna fragment in his hand and considering the angle at which it went in, Beck has a good feeling that the damage is in fact superficial. “Okay, Lewis, put some pressure on the wound.” She already has some large gauze pads ready, which she places over the wound and presses down with the palm of one hand. Beck looks over at Watney’s face - he's clearly in pain, but his color is a little better already thanks to the IV saline. “You still with me, Mark?” Watney nods. “I’m going to feel around your belly, let me know if it hurts when I press down.”

The pain is localized around the wound and he has no signs of peritonitis that would indicate that the antenna made it all the way through his abdominal wall. Peeling up the gauze that Lewis has been pressing against the wound, he sees that there’s little to no active bleeding. “I’m going to have to take a look inside the wound to confirm, but this is looking like it’s superficial.” He tells everyone. There’s a noticeable sense of relief all around.

"What's next?" Lewis asks, smiling with the rest of them but as always keeping them on task.

Beck does have a plan. "First I'm going to numb up this whole area."

"I like the sound of that." Watney cuts in.

"As you should." Beck laughs. "Now, fixing up that wound is going to take a while, so we're going to finish taking off the EVA suit and check for other injuries first. Then assuming there's nothing more urgent that hasn't declared itself yet, I explore the wound to confirm how deep it is. If everything looks good there, then a few layers of stitches and you should be fine.”

Watney catches the if in that statement. “And if you don’t like what you see?” He asks.

“Then it’s more complicated, but we’ll figure it out.” Beck keeps his tone as reassuring as he can. “Now, I’m going to need a towel and water to wash off this blood, then betadine swabs, a syringe, and lidocaine with epi.” Lewis hands him a clean, thin but absorbent microfiber towel and a bottle of water, then starts getting the other supplies ready as he carefully cleans the skin around the wound. When he’s satisfied, he wipes the area down with betadine and injects the local anesthetic in several places around the injury. Then he tapes a bandage down to protect the area and moves on to removing the rest of Watney’s cut-up EVA suit.

While he’s in the process of doing a head-to-toe exam (which reveals several painful-looking bruises but no fractures or other major problems), Vogel and Johanssen finish doing diagnostics on the Hab and the computer system, so Lewis has them come over so they can discuss the status of the mission as a group. The good news is that the Hab hasn’t sustained any significant damage from the storm, so for the time being they’re safe. The bad news that their primary communications system is down for the count, and the backup systems are communicating with the MAV, but MAV isn’t connecting to the Hermes. MAV’s communications system might be repairable, but they won’t know until they go out there to look, which won’t be until the storm has fully passed.

But then the comms are a small problem compared to the fact that the MAV is lying on it’s side, and even if they find a way to to get it upright it won’t be anywhere near flight-worthy. Meaning that their best hope of ever making it off this planet and back to the Hermes is the Ares 4 MAV, 3200 kilometers away. They only have about fifty days worth of rations, which can be stretched to maybe seventy-five, and two rovers that are fully functional but only designed to go short distances.

The hole in Watney’s side is very, very far from being their worst problem right now.

However, it’ll definitely help their chances if their engineer can get back on his feet quickly.

***

Beck has to use a scalpel and widen the wound by a couple of centimeters to get a good visual on the extent of the damage done by the antenna, but it’s worth it because now he knows that the damage is tangential, only muscle-deep. He has Johanssen take some pictures to send to NASA for a second opinion when - or if - they’re able to transmit, then irrigates the wound with saline and closes it with 23 stitches in three layers. Another examination of his whole abdomen to make sure nothing’s changed, and then a bandage over the stitches, and he’s good to go. “How are you feeling?” he asks as he finishes securing the bandage.

“Alright.”

“Good, I’m going to help you sit up now, let me know if you feel dizzy or anything.” Watney doesn’t actually need much help to sit up and swing his legs over the side of the table, Beck just keeps a steadying hand at his elbow and he does the rest. When he’s up, Martinez wraps a blanket around his shoulders. “Still okay?” Beck asks, taking Watney’s pulse which is reassuringly strong and steady.

“Yeah.” Watney answers. “Thanks for fixing me up.”

“It’s my job,” Beck smiles. “And you didn’t even need that much fixing up.”

“Still, I’m glad you’re here, all of you.” Watney says, then his eyes widen as something occurs to him. “Did you… are you all stuck here because of me?”

“Shit, Watney, no.” It’s Martinez that answers. “A gust of wind tipped the MAV less than two minutes after you got hit, there’s no way we would’ve been able to take off by then.”

Watney looks to Lewis, who nods. “When you went down, I sent Martinez to prepare the MAV for launch and the rest of us searched for you. He didn’t even make it there before it went over. The rest of us spent several minutes looking, but the storm was still worsening so I made the call to take shelter in the MAV.”

“You thought I was dead.” Watney says. It’s a statement, not a question.

“All we knew for sure was that your decompression alarm had gone off,” Lewis says. “There was a partial data packet from your biosensor that suggested you had flatlined.”

“That would explain why Beck’s been looking at me like that.”

“Like…?” Beck stammers.

“Like I’m back from the dead, and also like you feel guilty about it.” Watney explains.

“The chances were so low…” Beck starts, but Watney cuts him off.

“No, no, I get it, I don’t blame you, or any of you. I shouldn’t be alive right now, I’m just glad none of you got hurt trying to find me.”

“I almost tried to stop the others from going out and looking when they did.” Beck admits. “You could have been out there for hours longer… I’m sorry.” God, if they’d gone out after the storm ended and found that he’d died while they were waiting…

Watney reaches out and grabs Beck’s arm. “Please, don’t.”

“It was my call, not yours, Beck. And you helped me make the right one.” Lewis tells him. “Thinking about what could have happened isn’t going to help us right now.”

“Sorry, I was out of line.” Beck says solemnly. Yeah, he really doesn’t need to be airing those thoughts to the others.

“And I’m fine, right?” Watney offers.

“Yeah, I’m going to want to recheck you a few times over the next twenty-four hours, but there shouldn’t be any major problems. A week of avoiding anything too strenuous, ten days of antibiotics just to be safe, and you’ll be good as new.”

“So we can stop worrying about me, and start figuring out how we’re all going to get out of this.”

“You’re right, and I suggest we start by all eating something,” Lewis says.

They briefly discuss whether to start rationing now or in the morning, but it’s been eight hours since any of them ate so they make the call to each eat one last full meal. Vogel and Beck help Watney down from his position at the edge of the table, and once he’s standing he’s able to walk unassisted over to a chair at one of the other tables, where he sits, pulling the blanket tight around himself.

“Hey, Watney, what do you want?” Johanssen asks, opening up the food cabinets.

“I’ll go for a sweet and sour chicken, thanks,” Watney says.

“Coming right up.”

“I’ll get you some pants while that’s heating up.” Beck tells Watney, heading over to his bunk. No need for Watney to sit around getting cold in only his boxers and a blanket, and besides it gives Beck an excuse to get away from the group for a moment. He digs through Watney’s personal belongings until he finds a pair of clean, soft cotton pants, and then grabs a zip-up hoodie too.

Since his back is turned to the others, he puts the clothes down again for a moment and rubs at his eyes for a moment, trying to keep his breathing under control. He’d convinced himself Mark was dead, partly because he had data telling him that was the case, partly because… it was neater, meant that his friend wasn’t out there alone and injured, meant that the reasonable course of action was for the rest of them to stay as safe as they could. Saying Mark was dead allowed them to live with themselves during the hours they were waiting for the storm to die down. Well, they waited until it was safe, and Mark was still alive, miraculously stable but mercifully unconscious the whole time.

Lewis, and Watney himself, are right, dwelling on the what ifs isn’t helping. He just wishes he could stop.

“Did you change your mind about me needing pants?” Watney says, making Beck realize that he’s been over here lost in his thoughts for a little too long. He looks over and Watney wiggles an eyebrow at him.

Beck forces a smile back at him. “I’ve got them.” He carries the clothes over to Watney’s chair. “You shouldn’t lean over right now, so let me help you into these.” Beck gets them pulled up to mid-thigh and then Watney stands and finishes the job for himself, then puts on the sweater by himself too. He’s really doing okay. Really.

“You want the next one, Beck?” Johanssen asks as she hands Watney his food.

“No, that’s okay…” He starts, but she shakes her head.

“Come on, what do you want?” She’s got that determined look on her face so he gives in and chooses something.

One by one they get their dinners. Normally they’d be talking as they eat, but no one’s really in the mood, so they just kind of look at each other every once in awhile. As they finish eating, Lewis breaks the silence and calls an official crew meeting.

It’s going to take a lot of hard work and every bit of brainpower the six of them have, but by the time they head to bed they have a rough plan to make the 3200 kilometer journey to the Schiaparelli crater and use the Ares 4 MAV to get back to the Hermes by Sol 75. They know what they’re doing the next day - an inventory of their supplies, a thorough post-storm check outside, fixing the MAV’s communications array if they can, putting out a message for NASA that can be seen by satellites if they can’t. Well, those things, or staying in the Hab and resting if your name is Mark Watney.

“If I have to be trapped on an uninhabitable planet, I’m glad it’s with you guys.” Watney says as Beck checks him over again before they both go to sleep.

“We love you too, man.” Martinez replies immediately. Beck lets out a quiet laugh and nods in agreement. At the moment, with the six of them here together, it seems like they just might get through this alright.


End file.
